Knocking On Your Door
by PhantomSpannah
Summary: Owen is wide awake when Gwen knocks at his door follwing the most traumatic day of her life  PostCountrycide, this scene picks up on the night of their rescue, replacing the GwenOwen moment in the canon episode. [GwenOwen]
1. Complications

**Complications**

Owen glanced at his projector clock as the time flashed red on the ceiling, red as blood, he thought grimly, still unable to take his mind of the events of the day. Blood…. red… those bodies… those butchers… he shuddered and turned on his side, trying to clear his mind and get some much-needed sleep.

It was quarter to twelve; he'd been lying awake and restless for the past hour, exhausted by the day's twisted events, but unable to find peace. He'd been dropped off at his flat at nine (roughly), he couldn't really remember. He was still in shock as he stumbled to the shower, trying to wash away the dirt, the horror and the blood. Gwen's blood, he thought grimly, and unable to stop them, his mind was once again flooded with flashbacks – Gwen being shot… screams… blood… her fingers in his hair…

He sighed, it was no good; getting up from his rumpled sheets he padded into the open-plan living room and poured himself a whiskey. Owen sank back into his leather armchair; soothed by the familiar clink of ice in the glass, molten amber swirling in the crystal-cut glass. He was comforted – here was something he knew, the companionable warmth as it slid down his throat, the fuzzy haze it brought, the pain blunted. He knew he could rely on it.

_Tap-tap_

He was startled as someone knocked gently at his door. Who on earth could this be at – he glanced at another clock – midnight?

"Who is it?" He put his ear to the door, shaking slightly – though he put that down to a mixture of shock and alcohol.

"Owen," he immediately recognised those soft Welsh vowels, "It's me – it's Gwen. Can you… let me in? I'm freezin' out here"

He smiled despite himself, and slid the bolts back, opening the door. Pulling her inside quickly, he hastily locked the door again – still on edge from the days horrors, he could do without intruders. Then he turned to look at her –

And gasped - she was a mess; her hair wild and blown-about; cheeks and eyes red from the cold and raw from the tears that streaked her face; a bloody bandage sticking out from under her shirt. No wonder she was bloody cold, he thought, noting that she only had on her jeans and shirt, green jacket tied round her waist – the same clothes she'd been wearing that day.

"Gwen," he whispered, "what's wrong?"

She just stared at him, still sobbing - those dark eyes wide and staring at him.

He knew, of course he knew, it had been a rhetorical question. There was no room for sarky comments, no time to berate her for not looking after that wound, he knew what she needed. He padded over to where she stood and hugged her close to him, arms holding her tight and securely. Then she broke down completely, sobbing as though her heart would break, face pressed into the comforting warmth of his neck. She shook so violently that he had to hold her up, she had no control as her knees turned to jelly and she could no longer stand. It all suddenly seemed to much, and Gwen fainted, becoming a lifeless body in his arms.

"Gwen!" he was suddenly scared, but it only took a few moments for the rational medic side of him to kick in. Right, he thought, she's exhausted; wounded, half-frozen and I'll bet she hasn't eaten since that burger at lunch. What she needs is a cleaning up, a new dressing and clothes, and some food. Gathering her up into his arms, he shuffled across his bedroom and laid her gently on his bed. Never mind about mucking up my clean sheets newbie, he thought wryly, as he ran a hot bath in the en-suite. This done, he hunted down a fresh, albeit manly pin-striped, pair of pyjamas, his medi-kit, and a couple of energy bars he found kicking around in the kitchen.

Quickly but gently he undressed her, taking on a doctors attitude, and trying not to get too distracted by the wonders he saw before him. He winced as he peeled the dirty bandage off – that was one hell of a wound – you've got a nice scar in the making there Cooper, he noted frowning. Carrying her to the half-full bath, he slid her broken body into the clear water and using a sponge, sluiced and cleaned her skin of dirt and blood. Having done this, he dried her gently but thoroughly with a soft towel, and dressed her in his stripy PJ's. Next he slipped his head-torch on and, pushing her shirt up a little, examined her wound. Cleaning it with anaesthetic, he bound it up with a fresh dressing and arranged her clothes back in place.

Lying on the bed next to her, he waited for her to wake, content to just have her near him, knowing she was safe. He wondered at these feelings – the kiss in the body-drawer; those smouldering glances in the woods earlier; her hand gripping his neck as he examined her wound. Shaking himself, and still not knowing what it meant, he turned over to look at her.

And got the shock of his life to find her staring back at him.

"Gwen!" he started "You're awake – how're ya feelin'?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "Bit of a daft question Harper"

He smiled sadly – of course it was – he could have kicked himself for being so insensitive.

She looked suddenly confused, "Owen…"

"What?"

"Why am I wearing you're pyjamas? And how did I get so clean – has someone changed my bandage?"

"Ah… I can explain..."

She narrowed her eyes, "Go on"

He gulped, suddenly aware of how it might look, "Well, ya see…"

"I'm waiting Owen."

His flippant self suddenly kicked in out of habit, "Well, you came over, took advantage of me, we shagged something rotten and –"

He never finished his babbling lie. She was on him in a second, forgetting the pain in her side she launched herself at him, rolling them off the bed and pinning him to the floor. Panting hard, she glared at him, the situation somewhat reminiscent of their confrontation in the woods.

"_Owen_" she muttered through clenched teeth, "_I'm only going to ask you once. Now tell me, what happened – why am I here?_"

Too scared and tired to fight back, he gave up the pretence and came out with it, "Alright woman, I may have told you a few untruths a moment ago. You came over, looked bloody awful, and you collapsed in me arms. I cleaned you up and put a new dressin' on that wound of yours. Ok?"

Mollified, Gwen calmed down immediately "Just so long as you're telling the truth Owen – no funny business. I was just exhausted – needed…." She trailed off.

Owen was suddenly intrigued, "What did ya need?"

She stared down at him, dark eyes boring into his crystal-blue ones, realising the position she was in. She tried to push herself up, but her side suddenly shot with pain, and she gasped, falling back onto him.

"Gwen! You ok?" He was suddenly concerned again, yet couldn't help notice their closeness and the way her body was pressed against his.

She too noticed this, and her breathing sped up considerably, her pulse racing. No, she thought, this is wrong, this is Owen. But then another, bigger part of her mind said something else entirely. She wanted him, she needed him, he understood what they'd been through, and he could comfort her. Maybe this was what she needed – a distraction, a wind-down. Here was the opportunity, right in front of her. If only she had the courage to do this – could she really, knowingly, betray Rhys? What sort of after-effects would something this big have?

Owen had been thinking along similar lines, and decided a decision should be made. So without warning, he reached up, and pressed her head down to his, capturing her lips with a possessive kiss.


	2. Barriers

**Barriers**

That kiss seemed to spark off a colossal reaction somewhere inside Gwen. Her heart stopped, the raced at double-speed; her breath was ragged; her body seemed to melt on the spot.

From the moment his lips pressed against hers, she was his. She knew deep down, that once she had tasted fire, she could never go back – he awoke something inside of her, a passion and lust for life that she would never be able to subdue. She took a moment to acknowledge the consequences this would have, but realising she was no longer in control, she allowed herself to do only thing that seemed right. She kissed Owen right back.

He, unbidden, let out a low groan as crushed her mouth against his, licked his lips, and then plunged her tongue into his mouth. She revelled in the moment – it all came back to her; the electricity of their kiss in the cabinet; the almost-encounter in the woods; his eyes…

She moaned as his hands slipped under the pyjama top, tracing smooth flesh up from her hip, until his warm touch spread to her breasts. He pressed her to him, with one hand on her back – using the other to caress her supple mounds, rolling her nipple between his thumb and finger. She wriggled her hips at this, and felt him growl into her mouth, as she rubbed against his groin.

That growl was what did it for her – one moment she was content to be kissing him like this, then the next she wanted more. The growl was feral, low and seemed so natural – yet it evoked in her new emotions that had been dormant up until now. It set every nerve ending alight, leaving her vulnerable to his every touch. She found that she needed more – something that Rhys would never be able to give her. She needed Owen; _his_ hands on her, _his_ tongue against hers, _his _fierce passion that threatened to consume her.

She broke the kiss abruptly and immediately felt strangely bereft, but she just had to know:

"Owen," she rolled his name off her tongue, "Do you want me?"

At first he thought it the daftest question he'd heard – couldn't she feel his hard-on? Then he met her eyes: he saw the conflict there – knew she was serious; and for once in his life the hope of commitment he glimpsed there didn't scare him. Something about this woman had changed him, he didn't know why, maybe he would never know, but he knew one thing:

"Yeah, I do." Three simple words. Spoken without sarcasm. But they told Gwen everything she needed to know and more.

"Thanks Owen," She acknowledged his silent promise, and once again everything changed. It was as though someone somewhere had thrown a switch – gone was any reticence, the room was now charged with a heated electricity; their passion could at last be unleashed.

They met in an intense clash of teeth and tongues; heads pressed so tightly together that it seemed they were one. Hands squeezed, caressed and stroked all available skin; shirts were torn away in a frenzied stripping session; hips grinded and gyrated, groins rubbing furiously together.

Owen could feel himself more aroused than he could ever remember being; his cock straining against his too-tight denims. Gwen could evidently sense this, for she ran a hand down his chest, and slowly, teasingly unzipped him, pulling his jeans open.

"_Ohh_, _Gwen…_" Owen moaned into her mouth, eyes closed as her hand slipped under his boxers. He nearly fell apart when her hot little hand wrapped itself around his rigid member.

"_OHH, woman!_"

She couldn't help herself, teasing was one thing, but what she wanted to do was send him over the edge – she wanted to hear him fall apart. Breaking away from his mouth once again, she ran her tongue down his neck, down his chest – slowly, oh so slowly. Her hand still stoking the fires below, she flicked her tongue against his nipple, before drawing it into her mouth and sucking hard.

She heard his quiet moan and he threw his head back, eyes shut, blinded with pleasure and anticipation. She continued her journey down his body, following his navel down, down, down…

In one movement, she yanked his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, and slid him into her mouth. She heard him yelp. She grinned inwardly, and brought her hands up to play with his balls, as she began to bob her head up and down. He was reduced to a whimper as she tongued his tip, using just the slightest hint of teeth.

Owen could not remember ever experiencing this amount of pleasure – his senses were turned on to their limit, his voice had deserted him, and he could not restrain himself. His hands gripped her head, and his body jerked out of control as he felt her speed up. He could only see a pure white image of bliss, as he came suddenly and hard, his voice returning with a yell.

"_OH __**GWEN!**_"

She looked slightly taken aback by this sudden eruption, and hesitated for only a moment before swallowing and grinning. He was practically comatose on the carpet, his breath coming in laboured pants, eyes shut. Sliding back on top of him, she bent her head to his, kissing him ever so softly on the lips. He returned this kiss quietly, sensually, trying to show his gratitude.

Then he had to pause and take a breather – trying to regain some sense of sanity. Gwen meanwhile was content to grin and lie against his chest, snuggled comfortably on top of him. When words finally returned to him, Owen's voice was a husky whisper:

"Gwen…" he stroked his hand through her hair, "That was the most amazing… You are bloody brilliant – I've never been so hard in me life. You made me come so hard…"

She grinned against his chest, right hand tracing patterns down his side "Well, I never put you down as loud…"

"Oi," he sounded indignant, "I don't make that much noise"

She chuckled softly, "Tell the neighbours that."

"Ya know what?" he withdrew his hand, "I think this needs to be settled properly." Then his voice was close, his mouth pressed up next to her ear, growling, "Wanna make you come so hard…"

And with that he grabbed her, gathering up her body with one swift scooping movement, and she found herself flung onto his bed. The next thing she knew, he was on top of her, his body pressed right against hers, and she could feel his returning hardness against her skin.

Wait a minute, she thought, against my skin? Looking down she gasped.

"Owen! Where have my bottoms gone?"

Owen's grin loomed over her as he waved the pin-striped pyjamas in her face:

"What – these?" He was all innocence and charm, "Must have fell off I guess…" And he gave her the dirtiest wink she had ever seen – and Gwen loved it, forgiving him immediately.

"Right, now that's sorted, how about I fulfil my promise, and give you the most amazing shag of your life?" He flashed her a grin that managed to both melt her insides, and stoke the blazing fire within. "Like I said before, we're not cosy at all – we'd be fucking **amazing**!"

With that he bent down to kiss her, and nudging her legs apart, settled himself between her thighs. She cradled him there, poised at her centre. He was just about to thrust up into her, when Gwen stopped him, pushing his face away.

Looking concerned he paused, "If you're not sure about this then I won't push you."

She almost laughed, "No ya daft git. It's not that at all."

He looked immensely relieved, but puzzled too, "What is it then?" His blue eyes searched hers for an answer.

"What I meant is, have you got any –" she paused and to Owen's amazement blushed a deep pink. Not only did this turn him on even more, but it solved the enigma.

"Oh!" he grinned, realising, "Protection? Nah – don't need any." She looked shocked, but he continued before she could butt in, "You've got Jack to thank for this one – he gave me this spray thing to test a couple of years back – turns out it's a contraceptive spray. Temporarily makes you infertile – just for a week or so. Nicked it from him – had it ever since. So you're safe with me."

She was still sceptical, "But what if it runs out tonight?"

He winked at her, "No chance love – only used it this morning."

She looked relieved, then a look on incredibility crossed her features: "Were you… expecting me… this to happen?"

Owen looked her straight in the face and answered as honestly as he could, "I've always known you'd fall for me – we're too right not to be together." She looked at him, taking his blunt statement in, and finally decided she agreed. Seeing this he lightened up and returned to his former cheeky self, "Right, now you've finished talking – do you mind if I give you the best fuck you'll ever experience?"

She grinned against his mouth as he thrust into her. Barriers had been crossed – but she knew she was finally there. Home.


End file.
